


Death of the Sun

by SpellCleaver



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Grief, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH OKAY, Mourning, Suicide, Unhappy Ending, mentions of torture, some description of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver
Summary: Several weeks ago Vader's beloved son was revealed to be a traitor, arrested and confined to a reconditioning centre. That was the last time he would ever see him.Vader has made so many mistakes.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 156





	Death of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS  
> This is literally the darkest/most depressing thing I've ever written, and features major character death, suicide, grief, etc. There is a short description of a very gory injury. There are even background mentions of torture if you squint. Please do not read if anything like this is uncomfortable for you.
> 
> I wrote this months ago, and I'm only posting it now because some friends said they were interested in reading it XD I do have a whole plot figured out for this AU that extends beyond this oneshot, just as sad and dark as this fic, so I may either continue this into a multichapter fic one day or continue it in a series. I don't know; we'll see.
> 
> Until then, happy (or tragic) reading, and take care of yourselves!!

The comm came at a bad time. Vader was trying to meditate, anger and hatred and _betrayal_ coursing through him, as Palpatine had told him to, and he was too deeply immersed in the intoxicating energies of the dark side to pay it any heed. His comlink bleeped, twice, and did not bleep again.

His respirator forced rasping breaths in and out, in and out. He breathed with it, revelling in the relief it brought, and his irritation fractured, swirled, shattered. The dark side clouded everything and when he closed his eyes, he saw...

Padmé, on Mustafar, staring at him with tears in her eyes as he killed her, after she betrayed him.

Ahsoka, on Malachor, staring at him with tears in her eyes as he killed her, after she confronted him.

And...

He growled when he realised what image was coming up next; the other two were old, stale, though the pain they evoked was no less real. But this image...

The dark side would not be denied—

Luke, on Coruscant, the last time he'd seen him, staring at him with tears in his eyes and blood on his face, dripping from his crushed nose and his split lip from Vader's forceful backhand, as the stormtroopers dragged him away.

His son had been a spy.

His son had been a Rebel.

His son had been a _Jedi_.

Something _splintered_ , then, and he unleashed a roar, the machinery of his hyperbaric chamber shattering around him. He clenched his fists, would have trembled had he still been human enough, and then—

He couldn't help himself: his bond with Luke was dormant, dulled by the cuffs his son was forced to wear at the reconditioning centre, but it was still there. Vader kept his shields up so tightly he couldn't sense him at all most of the days—couldn't sense the harsh chastisement, couldn't sense even dregs of his misery, couldn't sense whether he was alive or dead—but when he was meditating, pain would only help him, so—

He reached out, felt along the dimmed bond and let his _fury_ flow through. Luke could probably sense it but Vader didn't care, the darkness flooding through him...

And Luke, despite all that fury, reached back.

_Father,_ he begged, and had Vader been less emotional he might have heard the terror in that mental plea, the desperation, the _urgency_ , but he was not. _Father, please, h—_

_You have brought this on yourself,_ he hissed back, the dark side hissing with him. Voicing his thoughts freed him from their chains. _You are a traitor and a disappointment,_ my son _. Do not contact me, do not attempt to spare yourself from your fate—this is what you deserve._

Yes. Voice it. Say it and it would become true, and he would be free—

_You are_ nothing _to me now. I will not help you. You are no son of mine._

Luke was desperate. _Father, I will_ die _here—_

Vader gritted his teeth. _Then_ die _. You are worthless, you are a Rebel, and good riddance to yet another one of your scum being purged from the galaxy forever._

Then before he could regret anything, before the raging fury could fade, he slammed his shields up tightly again, obsidian walls silencing any more pleas, and all was silent.

He settled back into his meditations but _kept_ that rage, let it fuel him, let it flood through him, and power came with it. He inhaled, revelling in it...

And some time later, the comm chimed again.

He _roared_ , again, ready to shatter and shout and slaughter; he summoned the comlink to hand, lit the hologram, and snarled, " _What_ is it?"

It was the commandant of the reconditioning centre. Vader's ire only rose as he stammered, "M— my lord, there has been a development in the case of your son—"

"That _Rebel_ is not my son," he said coldly. "And unless you are here to report that he has been totally and completely converted to the correct views, I have no interest in it."

"It is none of that, my lord, but— but..." He swallowed. "We require you on campus. It is a matter of great importance and urgency, and it is standard procedure to summon the parent of the subject when this happens."

The man hung up before Vader could question it further.

"When _what_ happens?" he growled anyway, then threw himself to his feet and stalked out of his meditation room.

* * *

He arrived on the campus of the reconditioning centre less than one standard hour later, his steps sharp and impatient. The commandant came to greet him, spouting worthless pleasantries and Vader silenced him with a squeeze to the throat.

"When _what_ happens, commandant?" he demanded. "You are wasting my valuable time on a subject that I intended to wash my hands of weeks ago. Inform me as to the problem and I will deal with it, then leave. I have no intention of speaking to the subject at all."

"Absolutely not, my lord," the commandant said. "You will not be speaking to him, I assure you. This is simply standard procedure. Right this way."

Vader followed him out of the main foyer, down a corridor then out into a courtyard. The towers containing the prisons that the subjects were kept in loomed above them both, one on each corner of the facility, and Vader noted with distaste that despite the commandant's assurances—

"I told you I had no interest in speaking to him," he snapped. "Why am I being led to him?"

The commandant said nothing in response: he just paused at the base of the tower, and gestured. Vader followed his gaze.

And then his world shattered.

There was a body, there, lying in a pool of blood on the concrete. A small body—far too small, and skinny—with bags like bruises around his eyes, skin pale as a ghost, blond hair matted with blood. His limbs were spread-eagled and askew, the back of his head crushed like an egg, and—

"As I said, my lord, standard procedure," the commandant said mercilessly, when all Vader did was _stare_. "I understand that you do not want to be associated with the subject any longer, so the facility will of course handle the issue of clearing the body away, but we consider it important that you were notified of the suicide and—"

"Suicide," Vader echoed distantly. It was a word he knew, but... it didn't compute. Not with his son.

"Yes, my lord. There are bars on the windows of each cell, of course, but observation shows that he managed to get them open, in order to hurl himself through. This is not an uncommon occurrence."

Suicide.

But— but that couldn't be right. Because suicide led to death, and Luke...

_Luke_...

That meant that Luke—

"Leave us," he commanded. The commandant paused at the _us_ —there was no one here but him and Vader, _not anymore_ —but obeyed.

And only once he was gone did Vader approach.

Luke— No.

Luke's _body_ still looked small, even when he got closer. There was an intense pain in his chest as he looked at it—at that face, the familiar curve of the nose, and the pale eyes, blank and unseeing.

Very, very gently, Vader knelt down.

Luke's hair still ruffled under his touch in the same way, but there was no accompanying smile. His mouth was open, but only slightly. His face showed...

Terror.

No, it didn't show terror—not anymore. But he could sense it.

Luke was dead, he realised.

_Luke_ was _dead_ —

He turned away sharply, looking anywhere, _anywhere_ but at that unconscious face, slack and expressionless. His chest was on _fire_ again, and it was Mustafar all over again, being betrayed by the one he would've given the galaxy to and burned alive and learning that the one he'd loved, his betrayer, was dead, by his—

By his own _hand_ —

_Father, I will_ die _here_ , Luke had said. That had been the last thing his son had ever said to him, and it was damningly true.

And what had Vader said in response?

_You are a traitor and a disappointment,_ my son _. Do not contact me, do not attempt to spare yourself from your fate—this is what you deserve, and you are_ nothing _to me now. I will not help you. You are no son of mine._

He swallowed.

_Then_ die _. You are worthless, you are a Rebel, and good riddance to yet another one of your scum being purged from the galaxy forever._

His son _had_ died.

Had Luke's words been meant as a threat, when he first said them, one which Vader's belligerent bluff had inspired him to carry through? Or had he been meaning something else, anything else, that it was hard for him, that the pain would one day be too much.

Had it been Vader's harsh words that had driven him to this?

No.

_No._

_Luke..._

He was gone. He was gone, and his father had hated him while he went.

Slowly, very slowly, Vader dropped those shields he'd erected between them, and felt his bond with his son once more.

The bond was there. But there was nothing on the other end. Nothing at all.

A vacuum; a void.

And when Vader bent over double, shoulders shuddering, when he dragged his little boy into his arms and cradled him like the day he'd found him, that void swallowed every scream that he unleashed.

Luke was dead.

Vader was alone.


End file.
